I don't know you anymore
by AirborneGirl
Summary: After Mac's wedding to Mic, she and Harm lost contact. Now she's getting a divorce. Can they pick up their friendship again?
1. Chapter 1

**I don't know you anymore**

**AN**: It had been some time since I had listened to my 'Savage Garden' dc, but when I did last weekend I suddenly realized I could make a wonderful story out of one of their songs. Normally, I don't readily do Song-fics, but let this be the second exception. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Song is called "I don't know you anymore" by the Australian band/duo Savage Garden. Needless to say I don't own either the song or the band. Don't own the characters of Jag either. They just make great fan-fiction for someone like me who can't come up with characters of her own and simply fell in love with (the character of) Harm.

**Spoilers**: Happens at the beginning of season seven. Mac did marry Mic.

_On we go:_

_I would like to visit you for a while  
Get away and out of this city  
Maybe I shouldn't have called but someone had to be the first to break  
We can go sit on your back porch  
Relax  
Talk about anything  
It don't matter  
I'll be courageous if you can pretend that you've forgiven me_

He hadn't shown. At all. He knew he was supposed to be her best friend, but he hadn't appeared at her wedding. After crashing into the ocean on his way to her rehearsal dinner, he was deemed to weak to attend. Or so everybody claimed. It was easier to believe in the lie.

It wasn't true, well, maybe partially. Part of him was glad that his recovery took quite a while longer than anticipated. It had given him the time to set a few things straight in his life. First, he ended his relationship with Renée. It was based on yet another a lie. He didn't care to uphold any of his past lies or mistakes or faults longer. It was time to clean his slate.

Second on his list was his relocation. Not from his work, but from the apartment that no longer felt like his home. Too many memories were stocked inside its walls, memories of a friendship that had reached its breaking point.

It had been his third, last and most difficult decision. He would not interfere in her upcoming marriage. It was her wish to be married, he would not stand in her way. He'd been given a chance and willingly let it pass him by, all out of fear. Fear of what, he wasn't sure.

But he was sure she deserved a loving husband and whatever the hell he thought was wrong with Bugme, even he couldn't escape the reality that, indeed, he would be good for Sarah. Or at least, better than he would be. Probably.

So they'd gotten married, they'd moved out of the D.C. area, Mac had been offered a relocation she'd gladly accepted (he never knew if she'd been angry for his no-show) and after a farewell-party he again missed (conveniently being sent TAD) she'd packed and left.

He hadn't seen her since. He'd phoned her a couple of times to ask her questions about her cases that were redirected to him and he'd e-mailed her for the same reason. Her current life as well as his never made their way into their conversations. For those who didn't know them, it seemed like they were strangers, having only fleetingly passed in the other once lives, never to even leave a mark.

He only knew a little of what was going on in her life, thanks to Harriet and the tiny bits of news she was willing to give him. No doubt Mac had ordered her not to keep him in the loop about her current life and he couldn't blame her for that.

A year had passed, when the latest scuttlebutt had triggered him into doing something he hadn't even thought about doing anytime soon.

Of course he wouldn't think of telling her how the word that must hurt her tremendously, almost made his heart jump for joy as the thought of a possible inkling of a second chance nestled itself in his heart.

Divorce.

Sarah and Mic Brumby were getting a divorce. From what Harriet told him (and he was grateful she seemed to be a little more talkative than normal), their marriage had gone downhill practically from the get go. Mic missed his homeland and because he hadn't been able to convince his new wife to relocate to Australia, he had made her life hell.

He hadn't been provided with any details, but from what he could piece together from the snippets of information, Mic was very often found at the more dubious kind of bars and clubs, sometimes too drunk or too 'engaged in pleasant conversation' to go home to his wife.

Harm had called her after he heard through his only reliable source that the separation had been finalized and that Mic had moved out of their home. It had taken lots of Dutch courage (_AN_: as a Dutch girl I can't thank the one who invented this saying enough :-)) before he dared to pick up the phone and dial the number he had memorized, despite of never having used it before. It had been an awkward conversation at best, but after some coaxing, she had agreed to meet him. In her own house, on her own terms.

And now he was heading her way, to talk to her for the first time in a year.

88888888888888

She honestly didn't know why she had agreed to meet him and even less why she wanted to meet him here, in her house. The house where she had wished to start her new life. As Sarah Brumby.

Their wedding picture was still on the wall, an "epitome of love" as the photographer had named it. It hung in an ugly, supposedly antique posh frame Mic had bought for her. She wouldn't have given ten cents for it at a garage sale. She hadn't had the heart (or the courage) to tell him how hideous she thought it was. Now, it suited the sham that was their so-called epitome.

Maybe, she mused, it was all her own fault, like Mic had said it was over and over again. He'd blamed everything on her. It was her reluctance to emigrate that had driven him away from her, her lack of understanding that had landed him into the arms of another woman. And another, and another. It was her crush on her former partner that had never allowed her to fully commit to him.

And if only he hadn't mentioned the last reason, she would have been able to shrug off her part of the blame. But she was to blame. It was the truth after all.

She'd been mad at Harm longer than she'd been mad at Mic. But she'd been more forgiving too. She'd felt his absence on what was meant to be the most important day of her life as a betrayal, a direct insult to their closeness, a last stab of jealousy on his part.

Now she understood that, even if Harm had never picked up any of her signals, or never wanted to act on them if he did, seeing her promise an eternity to another man was just too painful to put himself through. In retrospect, it made her one nasty little bitch to make him observe the one thing he would never have with her. And so he hadn't shown and she'd known exactly why.

Never a fairytale knight in shining armor, Harm had refused to sweep her away from her own wedding. Up till this day, she tried to convince Mic (and herself) she was glad he hadn't shown up and made a scene. She would probably not be successful in that attempt till her dying day.

So she had forgiven him. Kind of. Sort of. A little. She had gotten over him, moved on, erased him out of the forefront of her memory, safely on the backburner. She had to in order to become Sarah Brumby. So that's what she did. Kind of. Sort of. A little.

Not even close.

And Mic had felt it too. He had to, he wasn't crazy. And he acted upon those simmering feelings. He hadn't become abusive, just…void. Void of any feelings for her, void of compassion, void of physical attraction.

He would disappear from the face of the planet for days on end, leaving Mac worried the first few times it happened, raging when it kept on happening and completely detached when he displayed no signs of changing. Or wanting to.

With their connection only existing on paper, Mac had filed for divorce when the rumors of his numerous affairs could no longer be ignored. The final straw was reached when a young girl, barely a teenager, appeared on her doorstep, at least six months pregnant, claiming the child was Mic's. Sadly, she had no reason whatsoever to doubt the girl's allegations. Her husband didn't deny either, almost relieved to have a reason to get away from her.

Now, her second marriage was technically over, all that remained were some papers to sign. Mic had come by to collect his personal stuff on a moment she hadn't been home. Since, technically, he was the adulterer and therefore the guilty party, he had to leave most of their shared belongings behind. Not that she cared. In her mind, she was already redecorating. And if she wasn't this exhausted, she would have started even sooner.

She really was exhausted. The worrying, the fighting, the indifference on both his and her part…it had left her emotionally drained.

Then, just as she had reached an all-time low, he had called.

Harm.

Hiding both her surprise and the warm fuzzy feeling she definitely wasn't supposed to feel, she'd managed some small-talk before his voice, so small, so quivering, so hesitant, had asked her the one question she had never suspected he would ever ask her again.

"Sarah…I'd like to visit you. Is that okay?"

She had no reason to deny him access. She had hundreds of reasons. She couldn't think of any. So she agreed, in turn trying to keep her voice from quivering as much as his had done.

"Okay…my place. Saturday afternoon. 14.00 hours."

Silence. Had she given him her new address? She couldn't remember.

"It's 459 Jupi…"

"Jupiter Lane. I know where it is."

"Okay…see you Saturday."

"Yeah…Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks…for seeing me."

He'd hung up before she could say anything else.

_Because I don't know you anymore  
I don't recognize this place  
The picture frames have changed and so has your name  
We don't talk much anymore  
We keep running from the pain  
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again_

_Springtime in the city  
Always such relief from the winter freeze  
The snow was more lonely than cold  
If you know what I mean  
Everyone's got an agenda, don't stop  
Keep that chin up, you'll be all right  
Can you believe what a year it's been  
Are you still the same?  
Has your opinion changed?_

_  
_The snow had cleared from the roads, the sun was making a hesitant comeback as if insecure it would have what it takes to make a difference. He knew the feeling.

He'd picked out a bunch of spring flowers. Not roses, those days were over, but a nice bouquet of sweetly fragrant buds in pastel colors, softly whispering of a hopeful warm summer ahead. He didn't know if she would look at her immediate future like that, didn't know if she needed the delicate blossoms. He knew he did. Plus, he didn't want to come empty-handed. If anything, it would show her he was trying. Trying to do what? He wasn't quite sure.

It had been one hell of a winter. The summer following her wedding hadn't been all that bad. The cloudless skies had given him ample excuse to take his biplane for long, relaxing flights, his vacation time had been spent in La Jolla, which at least had helped him form some kind of band with Frank, while the sun provided him with a tan that effectively hid the bags underneath his eyes and the sad etches around his mouth.

Maybe not from everybody, certainly not from his mom, but from most people. By the time September came along, he looked almost relaxed. Almost.

But the winter. It seemed like mother Nature had decided to skip the fall and head straight for icy winds and gushes of rain that pelted the streets below. He buried himself in his work, not caring about the weather as it fitted his mood perfectly. Like the summer sun gave him a chance to mask his pain, the dreary conditions now provided him with the perfect excuse to look just as dreary himself. Everybody did.

The holidays came along. Relentlessly. And he hated each and every one of them. Nobody to carve pumpkins with for Halloween, laughing at their often totally messed up creations. Thanksgiving at the Roberts' family without feeling he had anything to be grateful for. No use making non-alcoholic eggnog on Christmas-eve, all the reason to get himself pissed-drunk and sick (luckily, he'd gone to the Wall first, so his dad wouldn't have to be embarrassed) feeling hung-over and deeply ashamed on Christmas day. He was one sad (make that pathetic) excuse for a human being.

Not to mention Valentine's Day. His subconscious fought with his determination for control of memories. The first won, sadly, as images of that day formed themselves in his mind.

The bullpen was littered with flowers, cards, candy, perfume, teddy bears and all other assorted cavity invoking sweetness. He'd rather have a root-canal than hear the romantic plans of even PO Tiner, for Pete's sake!

Somehow, he suspected the Admiral felt sorry for him, for he was ordered to go TAD to the Seahawk, where his love for Tomcats and his friendship with Skates dragged him through the most overrated, sentimental day of the year. His glass of wine with his RIO almost ended up in a kiss, but both of them now blamed it on their intoxicated state and never mentioned it again. Their friendship had prevailed and he was happy with that.

And now he certainly was happy that the lonely season had come to an end. With a hopefully new future. For himself and Mac.

_'Cause I don't know you anymore  
I don't recognize this place  
The picture frames have changed and so has your name  
We don't talk much anymore  
We keep running from these sentences  
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again _

She watched him park his SUV on the curb in front of her house and almost audibly gasped as he got out. He was still an intimidating man, handsome in uniform, but upon closer inspection he'd certainly lost weight and his shoulders were slightly slumped. He looked older, more thoughtful… a little hesitant. More like scared shitless. Deer caught in headlights shitless.

Mac literally had to force herself to move to open the door, all the while praying her own inner turmoil would not get the better of her.

With her frozen on her doorstep and him transfixed on the other side, they just…stared. Measuring the other one up, trying to get to their common ground, both fearing it was something that had eluded them for too long, making it too late to get there again. The path toward the other one had always been obstructed one way or the other, always forced them to take alternative ways, but what if they'd lost their compass, what if the alternatives had shifted beyond their grasp?

What if they were too late?

Sure, MacKenzie. Too late for what? With this man, you've always been too late. For anything.

"Hi." He spoke first.

"Hi." Not much of an answer, but the best she could do.

Silence took over once more. At long last, she was the first to step out, though still not sure how to proceed from their awkward greeting. A handshake was too little, a hug would be too much. Luckily, Harm met her halfway and placed a soft, hesitant kiss on her cheek before pushing his flowers in her hands.

"These are for you."

"They're pretty. Thanks."

How come they were still on her doorstep?

"Please…come in."

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

PART II

**Disclaimer**: Don't own song. Don't own Savage Garden. Don't own JAG. Own story.

He stepped in, looking around him, desperately seeking something, anything that would betray any detail of her life. He found a nice, but impersonal picture on the wall in the hallway. A coat rack in one corner, with an unfamiliar jacket hanging on it, a scarf draped across. He almost sighed in relief when he spotted the first recognizable object, carefully straightened on a hanger. Her Marine uniform. Mac the Marine at least he knew.

"Are you gonna keep your jacket on?"

He kind of wished he could, that the jacket would give him some safety. It wasn't bullet-proof, probably not Marine-proof, but he'd settle for Sarah-proof as long as he had no idea what the heck he was doing here. But of course he couldn't say it out loud, so he shrugged the garment of his shoulders and practically tossed it in the general direction of the coat rack, trusting on his excellent aim.

She watched him as he moved around her rather cluttered hallway. As usual, as it had been in her old apartment, Harm seemed too big for her stuff, but there was something more disturbing than that deja-vu. Harm still looked scared. The unknown territory of this house had obviously unnerved him. As if only now he really grasped the idea that she'd been sharing a new life with another man. However much in the past that was, Harm had never seen her in her role as someone's spouse. Mic's spouse. Huh, some role that was. Not exactly worthy of an academy award. But then again, neither was Mic's part. Or the scriptwriter's.

No, from now on, she would pick her roles with a little more care, starting from now. New role: old friend. Scene one. ACTION!

Silently, she led him through the hallway into her living room, with its cozy fireplace and the view to the spacious open kitchen. He hadn't said a word since he gave her the flowers and she felt it was up to her to try and break the tension, lift the cloud of panic surrounding him.

"If you wanna take a look around while I put these into some water…"

She couldn't for the life of her do the whole tour guide thing with him. Since Mic had left, she couldn't truly speak with much enthusiasm about the house. Now that his stuff was gone, it was even less of a home, never mind the fact that it had been a sham all along.

Maybe she should forget about redecorating and just move out. If only she knew whereto.

Somehow, Harm understood. Instead of sitting down, he wandered from her living room into the kitchen, to her back porch, glad for the distraction from his restlessness. Glad she seemed to understand him, as he understood her. Maybe, it was a good sign.

He didn't have the guts to go upstairs though. Didn't want to see the bed which she had shared with him. He knew they probably hadn't been…intimate…for quite a while, but it was their marital bed and therefore off limits. It would break his heart.

He opted to stay on her porch, sitting in one of the deck chairs he found there, enjoying the rays of spring sunlight, even if they were still too weak to provide any real warmth. He closed his eyes, blocking out the uncomfortable new territory, letting Mac's rummaging through her kitchen lull his senses back into a place of relative normalcy.

It's how she found him five minutes later, carrying two mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies on a tray. Carefully, she set it down on the table next to the chair, pulling up another one for herself. He hadn't moved or opened his eyes yet and for a moment, she thought he might be asleep.

It did give her a chance to actually observe him a little closer. Acquainted as she once had been with his handsome features, she now had to start over again. He was all at one soothingly familiar and achingly strange.

There were lines she was sure hadn't been there before, around his eyes and mouth. His mouth was still hauntingly beautiful, very kissable (she remembered his kisses better than her own husband's…EX-husband's) but the corners of his lips were pulled a little downward. All in all, Harm didn't look all that happy and she could practically feel another chip of her heart crumble off.

Where did they go wrong?

Of course, right at that instant, he opened his eyes. Azure gaze met a chocolate one. And held. And held.

Wetness on her cheek startled her. She hadn't realized she was crying, didn't know when it began. Not that it mattered, she was powerless to stop it anyway.

Harm sat, once again frozen, in his chair. Helpless against the tears falling down her pretty face. He'd caused her to cry. Again. He was one great male specimen, wasn't he? What gave him the right to scoff about Mic Brumby and the awful way he'd treated his wife, when he could make the same woman cry doing absolutely nothing! Had done so repeatedly in the past, was even doing so right now.

He hadn't done anything. Except for inviting himself over for a visit after a year of…of nothing.

In an instant, blind panic gripped at his throat, cutting off his air supply, toying with his sanity. He shouldn't have come, shouldn't have called. What had he been thinking? Did he really believe in a chance of salvation? Was he so much of a fool?

It was too late to fix things, no way the unravel the tangled mess of their friendship. He should have left well enough alone.

He should leave. Now.

_I know I let you down  
Again and again  
I know I never really treated you right  
I've paid the price  
I'm still paying for it every day _

So maybe I shouldn't have called  
Was it too soon to tell?  
Oh what the hell  
It doesn't really matter  
How do you redefine something that never really had a name?  
Has your opinion changed?

He stood, wobbly, knocking over the mugs of coffee in his haste, not even hearing the clatter on the wooden floor, nor Mac's gasp as she in vain tried to control the damage. Not the one created by the broken pieces or the stains in her cushions, she couldn't care less.

She instead targeted her former partner, her once best friend, the man she had loved, still loved. The one her heart depended on. The one that was now about ready to flee.

Not knowing how else to rouse him out of his utter state of shock, she instinctively opted for the military approach. Straightening herself to her full height, using her best commanding voice, she ordered.

"Get a grip, Commander!"

Surprising as it was, it worked. Harm stopped mid track and comically sprang to attention. Well, it would have been comically if not for the situation.

Mac now stood face to face with him, glad for once she was quite tall for a woman. Never had she been intimidated by Harm's height, so even if it meant standing rather wobbly on tiptoe, she lifted her own face until it wasn't even an inch apart from his own.

"Funny, Commander. You never struck me as a coward. Are you a coward commander?"

In his confusion, Harm's mind adopted the entire military routine, safe behind its protocol.

"No ma'am!"

"Then what were you planning on doing?"

As abruptly as they had adopted their military stance, he let go if it. This deserved a human conversation, not an article 32 hearing. But in both cases, he owed her the truth. He didn't need to take an oath to know that.

"I was trying to do the right thing by you, to correct a mistake."

Was she angry? Hurt? Sad? He had no idea and truth be told, neither had she. All she knew was that his latest outburst was absolute bull. She turned away in her fury, not wanting to give him any advantage by showing her confusion. When she spoke, it came out as a horse whisper, showing more of her feelings than she had intended to.

"You think coming here was a mistake?"

Well, wasn't it? She couldn't possibly be masochistic enough to enjoy crying over him yet again! Or could she? In his frustration, he grabbed her upper arms, forced her to look at him again.

"Mac…it obviously hurts you to see me. Maybe I tried to mend things too soon, should have given you, given myself some more time. I don't know. I just wanted to see you so badly, I wasn't thinking. I just…"

He sank back in his chair, trembling, stubbornly refusing to shed his own tears burning behind his eyes.

"I just wanted to see you. And I end up hurting you. Again."

If Mac thought she was done crying for the day, she was sadly mistaken. Countless times before had this man misinterpreted her emotions, which automatically triggered him into taking actions of the painful kind. Yes, he had hurt her, but not in a way he though he had.

She'd been plagued by her memories, her regret about things gone so horribly haywire. Not his actual visit had caused her tears, but rather the realization that they had come to this point where a visit from him was as terrifying as stepping into a war zone without a bulletproof vest.

Maybe she could just tell him. At least she had to tell him that she wanted, even needed him to stay. Desperately needed him to stay.

"Harm…please, look at me."

When she was sure she had all of his attention, she started talking to him in a soft, reassuring tone. It took every ounce of Marine control to keep her voice steady, but somehow, driven by sheer willpower, she succeeded.

"I'm glad you wanted to visit me. Glad you took that first step. I had no idea how to do that."

He relaxed ever so little, she noticed nonetheless. She heaved a sigh, relieved but not ecstatic, then plunged on.

"Now I need you to stay. If you walk out of me now, we'll never find our way back to each other again. And Harm…there's nothing I want more."

Harm wasn't totally convinced yet. He swallowed an upcoming lump in his throat. If only things could be this easy. They deserved it, didn't they? And even if not, he wanted their friendship back so badly, he honestly couldn't care less whether or not things would be easy. But could she? Could he let her muddle through all their heaped up troubles yet again? If she was crying already…

"Is it worth it, Mac?"

When he saw her get angry again, he hastily tried to explain.

"I mean, for you. God knows how much I'm willing to do to start over. Even if it means starting over at the very beginning. I'll do anything it takes…but you…"

"You don't think I'm strong enough?"

No. He never even considered the possibility, never underestimated her strength from the moment he'd gotten to know her. But he knew what he was getting out of it and his reward was undoubtedly the best thing to ever possibly happen to him and he was sure he didn't deserve it. Not if there was so little to give in return.

"You're the strongest person I know, Mac. You're so much stronger than I could ever be. But…"

God this was hard. He had to, if he didn't want them to get stuck in the middle. This time, it was he who lifted her chin to force her to look at him.

"A year ago I wasn't ready to give you a future, not ready to let go of past fears and insecurities. You turned to the man you thought could give you what I couldn't and justifiably so. Meanwhile, we've drifted apart so much and it has hurt, Sarah. It still does."

Her heart skipped a beat at the se of her given name, but she decided to ignore it as she had no idea where he wanted to take this conversation.

"I know it does. It hurts me too. But maybe we should let past mistakes just stay there Harm. Learn from them, of course, but not over-analyze them."

"Aren't you afraid, Sarah?"

Her given name again.

"Afraid of what?"

Here goes nothing. A new beginning or a definite end.

"Afraid of putting all your energy into this friendship only to find out that nothing has changed. That I haven't changed."

The noise she produced was something between a sigh and a grunt. More annoyed then anything else, she let herself drop from her chair to kneel onto the wooden floor in front of his chair.

"Things have changed Harm. I have, so have you. I don't know what's gonna happen, I can't look into the future. None of us can. But all I know is that a year ago you were my best friend and I want that back. So if you're willing to do whatever it takes, than so am I!"

She couldn't hold back a sob, but squared her shoulders immediately. On a softer tone, she continued.

"You don't have to protect me from yourself, Harm. Things might be rocky for a while, but I'll live. What we have is too valuable to let it degenerate again. I did that before and I've never regretted anything more in my life."

"But that was all my f…"

"If you're going to say 'my fault', then I'm going to kick your six so hard you'll ramp strike without a freakin' Tomcat!"

"I'm owning up to my mistakes, Mac!"

"Yes, and mine as well. Forget it, squid. I didn't ask you to come and be a martyr."

"You didn't ask me to come. I invited myself over."

"And you make a lousy uninvited guest as it is. Look at the mess you've made."

She leaned down to examine the damage done earlier when his race for the door caused some of her kitchen utensils their life, not to mention her flowery cushions, now adorned with two big brown stains. More to herself than to him, she muttered:

"This isn't gonna come out."

"With the strength of your usual Marine sludge, you're probably right!"

"Mocking my coffee, squid?"

"You call that coffee? Looks more like kerosene, tastes like it too, as I recall."

"Oh, then you should like it just fine."

"But you shouldn't. You don't do so well in a Tomcat!"

"Ever considered it had something to do with the pilot?"

"No. Why would it? Best damn pilot in the US Navy."

"Navy. Pretty much says it all, huh?"

She smiled at him and, just like that…

Something snapped.

This was them. This is how they operated. Far from being ideal, at least it was one step closer to them being normal. At least he knew they could survive the bantering matches…hell, they thrived on them!

He started to smile too, turning up all megawatts and to Mac it was like he gave the hesitant rays of sunshine an example of how it was supposed to be done. Indeed, it took notice.

The clouds lifted, the temperature rose. He opened his arms to her and she stepped willingly into his embrace, holding on for dear life.

"Harm?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for coming over."

"Thanks for having me."

_Because I don't know you anymore  
I don't recognize this place  
The picture frames have changed and so has your name  
We don't talk much anymore  
We keep running from the pain  
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again_

_I see your face  
I see your face_

THE END...for now.


End file.
